Where You Belong
by Raella
Summary: At 22, Phil Diffy is the most promising intern at Timex, the most prestigious and important government agency of 2129, yet time may choose to place him elsewhere. What is the cause of his strange illness?
1. Sickness

_Ha ha…never done this before! So, after reading fanfic for ages, I finally try my own hand at it…._

_I don't profess to be a writer (actually, I'm a math and physics nerd). Please don't be too hard on me!_

_For all who care: I don't own Phil of the Future._

**Where You Belong**

Keely Teslow sat at the desk, smiling to herself. He loved her! Well…he liked her a lot, certainly. And _whoa_…what a fist kiss! In front of the entire school!! A small giggle erupted from her. Funny - that's what they had tried so hard to avoid just the day before! Her blonde curls bobbed about her shoulders as Keely shook her head, grinning like crazy, rocking back and forth in the swivel chair. She tried to lose herself in the feel of his lips on hers, while the memory was still so delightfully fresh and warm…wow….

She couldn't believe all that had happened in the last few days. It seemed unreal, as if any minute she would wake up and find that nothing had changed. She would go to school, just as usual, and she would hang out with Phil, also as usual. Meanwhile, as was lately becoming usual, she would try to disregard her strange attraction towards him, which was gradually growing harder and harder to ignore. Yet, thanks to the school, that particular issue had been more or less resolved two days ago. The cat was out of the bag – she liked Phil, Phil liked her – they were an item. Well, it hadn't exactly been that easy. In fact, it had been rather awkward, and nothing of particular significance had been discussed…well, until the kiss, if that can be called 'discussion.' He liked her, but really, how much? He was her best friend – he knew her deepest secrets, he'd been there for her whenever she needed him. She loved seeing him smile, making him laugh – even if it was at her own expense, as was often the case. He was so…steady. So constant. She knew that she could count on him for anything, whether she needed a shoulder to cry on, or merely someone to laugh with. She knew that at 16 she was entirely too young to fall in love, yet she felt that, given time, she really might. Fall in love, that is. With Phil.

The smile faded from her face. Time. That was the problem. She looked down at the shaker in her hand, wrapping her fingers more tightly against the sleek metal. They didn't have time. Phil was gone, and he wasn't coming back. Not now, not ever. She'd be long dead by 2121, and he'd move on. He'd have to.

Urrgh. It was so frustrating. To have such happiness, and then to have it so quickly taken away. She'd really felt they'd been at a beginning. She'd felt that they were going somewhere…

"Teslow, are you all right?" a voice interrupted her thoughts. Keely glanced absentmindedly at the salt shaker in her hand, and realized that she'd been gripping it so hard that her knuckles were white. "You look like you just lost your best friend!"

Keely didn't even bother to look up. "I did," she whispered, more to herself than anyone else. She gazed numbly at the object in her hand. The metal, though warmed by her skin, felt so cold against her hand. Cold and dead. Like all that never was, and now never could be.

Keely bit her lip to keep from crying.

* * *

Phil Diffy rubbed his eyes, sluggishly dragging the palms of his hands down the sides of his face. It had been an incredibly long day. He had a splitting headache, and felt vaguely sick to his stomach. As if that wasn't bad enough, when he stood up, the room swam – rather violently – in his vision. Phil stood still a moment, until the room around him slowly began to look normal. It was a simple office, a cubby really, where he completed the duller aspects of his training and his work as an intern. At least they try to make it seem homey, he thought. He glanced once more at the opposite wall, where sunshine poured cheerfully through an open window. It had been his choice; it reminded him of the house his family had lived in briefly, 6 years ago. After storing his visor carefully in the slot under his chair, Phil pressed a button on the key pad near the door. The room went dim as pane of the opposite wall – the window, as well as the typical office conference panel – flickered out. 

Phil stepped out into the hallway, listening to the hiss of the door as it slid closed behind him. He waited a moment, listening distractedly for the sound of the system lock as the door sealed itself. Not that there was anything that important in his office, but still, it was a good habit. If someone managed to rig his visor, they would have access to the whole computer system at Timex Corp., and he would be in deep shit. Phil headed down the hallway, so glad to finally be making his way home for the day.

"Diffy! Hold on a minute!" he heard a voice call. Phil turned to face the man that approached him.

"Oh, hello Mr. Denton," he answered. Despite his gruff baritone and stern appearance, Phil knew Alain Denton to be a good man, and a fair boss. He was an extremely brilliant physicist and a shrewd businessman, who had built Timex from the ground up some 40 years prior. The company had suffered tremendously when the restrictions on unnecessary time travel had been passed 7 years ago, yet Denton, in an ingenious proposal to counsel, had convinced the government to fund the company. Once a dealer of machines to millions of vacationers, Timex was now a renowned government research agency. The company was in charge of both the study and the preservation of the timeline, and used its cutting-edge technology to monitor any irregularities or interruptions to the recorded flow of history. With the technology that existed in 2129, this was extremely important for the security and longevity of both the government and the nation.

"Uh, Phil…" Denton began awkwardly. "Look, I've noticed that you've haven't been yourself lately."

"I know, sir. I'm sorry about that. I just can't seem to shake this…whatever it is." Phil pasted a smile on his face, and fought his tired body to stand up a little straighter. At 22, he was still shorter than the average man, standing at only 5'10," but he had a broad, athletic figure, and a kind, open face that gave him a strong and commanding presence…at least, when he was well. He ran a hand tiredly through his chocolate brown hair. "I'll be fine in a day or two, I promise."

"Have you been keeping up on your inoculations, boy?"

"Yes sir."

"You know how quickly new diseases seem to crop up these days. Maybe you should see a doctor." Phil made no reply. "Well anyway, you have my permission to take a few days off for rest; you look like you need them."

"Thank you, sir. Really though, I'm fine." Phil gave Mr. Denton what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "Thank you for your concern."

Denton sighed, "Alright, as you wish. Get some rest, Diffy."

Phil nodded politely, and turned to leave.

"Take care of yourself, boy!" He heard Mr. Denton call. "You won't be any use to us if you run yourself dead before you get your certification!" Denton shook his head, and turned back to his office. "Bright kid," he said to himself. "He'll make a terrific agent one day."

* * *

While Phil waited in line for the bullet, he heard a low beeping. Sighing, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his earpiece. He looked at the small screen. A slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he put the earbud in. "Hey mom." 

"Hi honey!" she said cheerfully. "How was your day at work?"

"Same as usual," he responded tiredly. "Mom, you talk like I just started working as an intern. I've been working at Timex for almost two years! Soon I'll be a certified researcher and technician. Three years more and I'll be a fully qualified traveler."

"The youngest yet!" she said excitedly.

Phil gave an exasperated sigh, ducking carefully into the bullet. "Mom!"

"Oh Phil, you have to let me brag about you a little. It's my job as a mother!"

"Barb, let him be," Lloyd Diffy said as he joined the conversation.

"Hey dad." Phil braced himself for the acceleration. Hey slowly let out his breath as the bullet reached a constant velocity. These rides were nearly intolerable in his current condition, but it was the quickest way to his apartment, and certainly preferable to falling off a skyac during one of his dizzy spells.

"Hi son. How are you feeling?" Lloyd said worriedly.

Phil tensed up again as the bullet slowed. He felt like he was going to hurl.

"Not much better," he admitted.

"Is it any worse?" his father pressed.

"No, pretty much the same," Phil lied, gulping to keep down the bile that had risen to his throat as he climbed out of the bullet.

"Look son, we're really worried about you. Maybe it's time you see a doctor about this strange illness…"

"I already have," Phil said quietly. "No one knows what it is."

Barb gasped, and Phil heard his father murmur something to her, probably to reassure her that he, Phil, would be okay. He hoped his father was right.

"Mom, it's okay. Really. Look, I've been researching in my free time, trying to figure out what it could be. It's possible that I just missed a certain vaccination. That happens, you know, and it's easy to fix." Phil climbed into the chute at his apartment building, keying in the 138th floor and preparing for another sickening ride.

"Alright Phil, but if there's anything your mother and I can do…."

The chute jerked violently upward. Phil winced, and braced himself against the wall as his stomach revolted that day's lunch.

"Phil? Are you okay?"

"Fine mom…." Phil looked at the disgusting pile, wiping the bile from his lips with his sleeve. "Just fine…." With light hiss, the door to the chute slid open and Phil stepped out into the hallway. He pressed the maintenance button beside the chute, and trudged toward his apartment. Finally, a warm shower and sleep... "Look, I just got home. I really just need to go to bed…I'll probably feel better in the morning."

"But you said the same thing last we-"

"Barb," his father cut in, "just let him rest, if that's what he feels he needs."

" I'm sorry honey. It's just that your father and I are so worried about you…"

Phil palmed the small panel outside his apartment. He heard the system lock release with a light beep, and the door slid gently open. "I know mom. I'm worried about me too." He was. Whatever this was, it scared him.

"We're here for you, son. Just give us a call if you need anything."

The door slid closed as he stepped inside. "Thanks dad. Love you guys."

"Love you too, honey."

"Bye." Phil pulled the earbud out and lightly clicked it off. He leaned heavily against the door, sliding down wearily until he was seated on the floor of his kitchen, his face in his hands. He realized that he was shaking uncontrollably. "What is happening to me?" he whispered.

* * *

_ Phil was so happy. Just being with Keely made him happy. Seeing her smile, hearing her laugh – there was nothing better. They had decided to hang out at her place that night, eat pizza and watch old black and white movies. The movies were typically sappy, but he didn't mind. As she always pointed out "they're sweet, and harmless." The movies were clean, the guy always got the girl, and good always defeated evil…maybe they weren't so bad after all. Besides, he got to watch them with Keely. What more could he ask for? She nestled against his shoulder, nudging the empty pizza box off the coffee table to make room for their feet. He laid an arm comfortably over her shoulders, and gently kissed her forehead. He knew that he needed to tell her that he was in love with her. He needed to tell her that she was the only woman for him; wherever she was, that was where he belonged. The words seemed so easy, but they wouldn't come. _

_ Keely shifted against his shoulder, giggling softly. "Watch me, I'll be asleep halfway through the movie – you can bet on it!"_

_ "I'd lay money on that one. You're pretty predictable, Pepper."_

_ She punched his arm playfully in response. "Shhh! You're missing the movie!"_

_ Phil shifted his weight slightly, resting his head gently on hers. Well, not tonight. Maybe tomorrow he'd tell her._

Phil opened his eyes, blinking as the light from the living room lamped seared his eyeballs. He jumped slightly, a little disoriented. He must have fallen asleep on the couch. As was becoming more and more predictable lately, he'd had another dream. Phil sighed heavily, sitting back down. Only a dream. His imagination, fed by his impossible hopes, was playing tricks on him. But these dreams were so real!

Phil felt feverish, and realized that, again, he was shaking slightly. He leaned his head back against the back of the couch, frustrated and exhausted, reaching blindly for the glass of water on a small table next to the couch. Missing the glass, Phil growled and leaned over to pick it up. It really wasn't that physically difficult for him, just annoying. He reached again, staring stupidly at the glass and at his right hand.

Horrified, Phil realized that he had not missed the glass. His hand had gone right through it. No pain – no feeling at all, really. Just through the glass. Right through it. Phil stared, aghast. He brought his hand to him, scrutinizing it with a sickening curiosity. His skin seemed to be moving, swirling strangely like plasma in a screen and producing an eerie glow. Well, his hand might not have been glowing. Maybe it only seemed that way because he could see right through it.

"Oh shit…" he murmured.

* * *

Keely sighed and rolled out of bed. She wouldn't be able to go back to sleep, not after that. These dreams were always so vivid and real, and they'd been happening so often lately. She wrapped a large, comfy robe around herself, and padded into the kitchen. Why couldn't she just forget him? Why didn't she just move on? Well, she had….sort of. She'd dated a few men. Some were good men, but she never let them get to close to her. She gave them her friendship, but never her heart. Oh, she had certainly tried to do the latter, but somehow – Keely grimaced – somehow she always managed to sabotage the relationship just as it began to go somewhere. These dreams always seemed to get in the way. She'd be reminded of Phil, and these men – no matter how kind or sweet they were – they just weren't Phil. She snorted, setting a pot of milk on the stove to heat. Served them right for trying to date a girl who was holding a torch for someone in another century! 

She'd had plenty of experience with the _other_ sort of guy, too. Suave gentlemen who promised romance, but had certain…ulterior motives. They saw in her a trophy girlfriend – beautiful, sexy and sophisticated – but were too ignorant to love deeply. She didn't know why got involved with such shallow men – maybe it was because she knew that they would never truly ask for her heart, so she would never need to give it. These relationships were just as futile as the good ones, if not more so. As much as Keely hoped that, just _once, _she could be the sort of person who had shallow, meaningless flings, she was incapable of it. Maybe some could drown their loneliness and uncertainty in empty sex, but Keely knew she could not.

Of course, there was always the type who looked at her and clearly saw nothing but a piece of meat. Those unlucky men, who quickly proved to her that they saw only her lovely body, were soon greeted by the fiery young reporter Keely Teslow – sharp, witty, and not afraid to tell anyone what she thought. She was the brightest young intern at KJZ TV in New York City, training to fill the position of co-anchor when KJZ's leading lady, Bobbie Darron, retired in the coming years. At 22, Keely _was_ beautiful. She was tall – 5'7" – with a trim figure and an immaculate face. Her blonde hair had deepened a shade with age, and it fell in gold waves, draped delicately past her shoulders. She didn't hesitate to let the world know that she was much more than a pretty face, but she had to admit that as a young broadcast hopeful her looks would certainly not hurt her career…

She stirred the milk in agitation, clanking the spoon against the pot with a sharp metallic ring. Why couldn't she stop thinking about Phil? His memory had haunted her long enough; couldn't he just leave her alone? Keely scowled at the pot. That's exactly what he'd done, though her rational side knew it wasn't his fault. Phil belonged in another century! And in 6 years, she'd probably managed to romanticize him to the point that he wouldn't even be able to compete with _himself_ – the way she saw him – _if_ she ever saw him again. That's what the decent men always fell, short of, wasn't it? Her perfect image of Phil. Impossible for any man to compete with, she'd used it as a reason to end relationships whenever they got too deep or the slightest bit complicated. "Keely, hon, you need to stop living in a dream, or your life will pass you by," her mother had said. Keely sighed, squeezing chocolate syrup into the milk and stirring it angrily.

Ugh. Keely shook her head, as if that would help to clear her jumbled thoughts. She needed to wake up. She would never see Phil again; that was reality. She could spend her whole life waiting for a man who would never come, but that would be a pretty lonely existence. Besides, when he got back to 2121, she would have already been dead. He would have already forgotten her, so she would do best to forget him. She had to find a way to forget him.

* * *

Phil yawned as he put his visor on the next morning. It was a little difficult to do this with only his left hand – especially with his fingers trembling as they were – but somehow he managed. That was the story of his day so far – he'd managed. He'd managed to make it through the rest of the night without panicking, he'd managed to make it to work alright (probably only because he'd chosen to skip breakfast, rather than risk losing it on the way to work), and somehow he'd managed to make it in to his office without having to palm the door. This was, of course, impossible for him with the current state of his right hand. Luckily for Phil it was Wednesday, and the pane technician was just completing the biweekly tune-up on his office pane as he arrived. 

"Everything's running efficiently. No viruses this week!" the old man said as he left. "Have a nice day, Mr. Diffy."

"Thanks Trent!" Phil called absentmindedly. He settled back in his chair as he clicked on the visor. A face appeared before him on the screen of his visor, and he steeled himself for another morning's dull lecture. He always hated these hours of boredom, but they were worth it. Soon he would complete the researcher's program, and the three year traveler's program to follow would consist only of practical training. Still, today it was tough to focus, considering that he seemed to be slowly disappearing.

An hour later, as he switched the visor to access the company database, the conference panel next to his window flickered to life. "Good morning Phil," Denton's image greeted him.

"Good morning Mr. Denton," Phil answered, clumsily removing his visor with his good hand.

"How's the prohibition case coming?"

Phil shook his head slightly, trying to jolt himself awake. He could go back to being preoccupied in a few minutes, _after_ he finished talking to his boss. "Fine, sir. I've managed to compile a detailed historical record surrounding the case, and it seems that Jarard and Hinks failed to cause any significant damage to the timeline."

"Good. The less we need to step in to fix this sort of thing, the better. It's all too easy to make things worse when we try to set them right. They've been arrested, I assume?"

"They've been captured and returned to this time by agent Bexby, and their technology has been confiscated," Phil replied.

"Alright. Good work, Phil. Just write up your report, and file it with Mrs. Gumphrey by tomorrow afternoon if possible."

Phil remembered something. "Don't I need to let agent Henderson check it first, sir?" he asked, confused.

"Phil, you are almost a fully qualified researcher, and you reports lately have been nearly flawless." Denton grinned, "I think it's about time we stopped wasting our time checking your work."

Phil managed a small smile at that. "Thank you, sir."

"Now get to work." Denton smiled. "I expect to see that report tomorrow!"

"Yes, sir," Phil answered. Phil saw Denton reach over to flick off the screen. Then…

"Diffy!!"

Phil winced. "Sir?"

"What's wrong with your hand?"

Shoot! He'd been resting his arm carefully on the arm of the chair, but when he shifted slightly his hand had sunk through the cushioning. He quickly moved it. "Oh…nothing! Nothing – it's fine" – he carefully held his hand above the armrest – "see?"

"Diffy, I want to see you in my office _now,_" Denton said sharply.

Oh boy… "Yessir," Phil muttered, climbing out of his chair. A little late, he realized he'd risen too fast. The room around him swirled, and went dark.

_So there it is…constructive criticism welcome, but please don't kill me!  
_

_Raella _


	2. Answers, and More Questions

_Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed so very long ago! It was really encouraging to read what you guys had to say. Sorry this has taken so long, but school is school, and my college is a ridiculous pressure cooker (but I love it anyway)…okay, back to my imaginings…_

**Where You Belong **

**Chapter Two: Answers, and More Questions**

Phil awoke some time later to the sound of Mr. Denton's voice.

"…Shame to loose such talent; really, that boy has promise…"

Then, agent Henderson: "What do you mean, Alain? Is the illness terminal?" Phil felt his muscles tense. Was that what it was? Was he dying?

"No Hal, not if handled properly. But he certainly can't stay here," agent Bexby replied knowledgeably.

"I'm surprised at you Henderson," – Denton's voice again – "you've seen this before."

"Impossible!" Henderson stuttered. "But this is his own…is that possible?"

"Rare," Bexby replied, "but it does happen. And considering Diffy's case, it makes more sense than it otherwise would –"

Phil shifted on the low cot, cracking an eye open to look about him. He was in Alain Denton's office, and the three men were gathered on the other side of the room, talking quietly amongst themselves. Phil cringed as he cautiously opened his eyes. The light that assailed his pupils only accentuated what was already quite a fierce headache. Phil groaned as he realized that he still could not feel his right hand.

The others in the room must have heard him groan, because their conversation immediately ceased. Bexby stopped mid sentence, glancing over at Phil. "Phil! You're awake," he said anxiously, approaching the cot. Agent Bexby was a short man, with salt and pepper hair and a double chin. Over the recent years he had become almost like a grandfather to Phil. He had a kind, round face and a raspy tenor voice that Phil, who was beginning to panic with worry, found extremely comforting in his present situation.

"Take some of this, boy," he said, helping Phil to sit up, and shoving a small vial into his good hand.

Phil looked skeptically at the concoction, which, though mostly clear, fizzed slightly with swirling fog-white clouds. He glanced over at Bexby, who was waiting patiently. Phil shrugged and quickly downed the mixture before he could lose his nerve. He choked and sputtered as he felt the powerful liquid race down his esophagus like cold fire. Phil swore violently, dropping the small Metaglass tube. "What the hell _is_ that?!?" He coughed uncontrollably as Bexby pounded him on the back.

"Sorry about that – just a small dose of Reality. I probably should have warned you…" Bexby said bashfully, bending down to retrieve the tiny vial. "Always did like these things," he muttered, replacing the cap that vacuum-sealed the feather-light tube. "Wonderful inventions…"

"Is that your idea of some sort of sick joke?" Phil asked incredulously, gulping down a glass of water that Henderson had shoved in his hand.

"Actually," Denton said as he strode across the room to join them, "it's some chemist's idea of a sick joke."

Bexby regarded Phil kindly. "It was necessary, in order to keep you here until we can figure out exactly what's wrong, and find out where it is that you actually belong."

Phil looked at him questioningly. "What do you mean?"

Denton sighed, sitting down with a grunt at the end of the cot. "Something's gone wrong, son. It's nothing you did, really, just a glitch in the timeline. These things that are happening to your body right now – that's the timeline warning you that something is very wrong, that you should be somewhere else…"

Phil reached up unconsciously and scratched his head. He gasped, bringing his right hand down and staring at it in wonder. It was back to normal! But how…..?

"I don't understand." Phil looked at them, vaguely frightened, but more intrigued now that he no longer seemed to be disappearing.

"This is very unusual Phil. You wouldn't have seen it before; we haven't dealt with a case in years," Alain Denton said gently. "You are what we call an 'Annie,' short for 'Annac'…"

Phil stared at him dumbly.

"…a term derived from the word 'anachronism.'"

"What?!?"

Denton continued, "You may have heard this condition more widely termed 'temporally twisted.'"

"Chronologically crossed," Bexby supplied.

Henderson smiled wryly. "Chron-fused."

Bexby chuckled uneasily. "I always disliked that one. The pun's just too terrible…"

Denton turned to Phil. "Essentially, you don't belong in this time, at least not anymore. Your world-line has a sudden discontinuity; you grew up here, and that was right, but for some reason you now belong in another time. We must figure out where exactly that time is – precise to the year, such that your age is correct – and send you there, before nature sends you against your will. The medicine will not work for long. The timeline will continue to try to right itself, and if it tries to take you before we can, it is likely that you will be destroyed." Denton's brow creased as he added, "We've never known anyone to survive the trip._  
_

* * *

_A sharp intake of breath - Keely felt his lips brush her head once, twice, and then gently touch her hairline. Her skin tingled, and she felt the heat rise to her face. This touch was unforeseen, and unbelievable. She didn't dare to breath. Was this really happening? Her best friend in the whole world, the man she trusted with the deepest secrets and desires of her heart – the man that she didn't want to admit she might be in love with – the man she had suspected might be secretly in love with her – was touching her in a way he never had before, not even when they'd dated briefly in high school. There was something so powerful in those kisses, something that almost frightened her. But she could never fear him. In his arms she felt safe in a way that she'd never felt, not since she was a child. _

_His lips lingered on her brow. She could feel his breath softly tickling her forehead, quickening and unsteady; uncertain. The world was completely silent, and each passing moment felt like a year. She knew he was waiting for her, waiting to see if she would reject him. She realized then that she could not, and did not want to. Everything she'd ever wanted was promised in those kisses, loving and soft and steady. She knew they were promises of forever, if she wanted it. Not daring to breath, afraid that she would break the spell that seemed to be upon them, she lifted her face to receive his kiss… _

Keely awoke with a start. Where were these dreams coming from? She had never dreamed very much, and even now she rarely did – except when she dreamed about _him_. She drew in a ragged breath, savoring the feel of his lips on hers. The sensation was fleeting. Keely sighed and sat up in bed, staring blindly across her darkened room. Shivering, she drew her blankets up around her. She had to come to terms with reality: she was 22, and alone. There was no Phil, and there would never be – not in _her_ lifetime.

Keely glanced over at her clock. It was 5 a.m., almost time for her to get up anyway. Wearily, she threw back her covers and climbed out of bed, bracing herself against the relative chill of the room compared with the warm cocoon of blankets she was leaving. She stumbled to the bathroom to get ready for another busy day at work

* * *

Keely quickened her pace as she weaved her way through the bustling city streets, making her way towards the studio. Her heels clicked rapidly on the sidewalk, their rhythm interrupted suddenly as her narrow heel went directly into a groove in the cement. "Great," she muttered, wincing as her ankle twisted painfully. She swayed dangerously, sloshing her coffee all over the sleeve of her crisp white blouse. "Urgh!" the blonde growled, trying to catch her balance. Suddenly, she felt a strong hand on her upper arm, and one on her back, steadying her. Keely gasped, and looked up to see a tall, golden-haired man staring down at her in concern. She flashed him a quick smile, trying to shake off the coffee that was dripping from her hand. "Damn it!" she growled, pitching the now half-empty cup into a nearby trash can. She turned back to the courteous stranger.

"Are you all right ma'am?" he queried.

Keely sighed heavily, and shrugged as she wiped the remaining coffee on her black slacks. "I guess that'll have to do," she said. Raising her eyes to meet his, she answered sheepishly, "Thanks."

"Rough morning?"

"You might say that. I've just been a little preoccupied, is all. You can see how that pays off," she said sarcastically, gesturing to her now brown and sopping sleeve.

"Here," he said, pulling a few napkins out of the paper bag he was carrying. "A bagel's not that messy, and I think you need these more than I do." He handed the napkins to her, smiling. "Is there anything I can do to help you out?"

"Probably not," she replied wearily. "Thanks, though." She gave him a curt nod, and turned back to the trash can to try to blot the coffee on her sleeve.

He stood there awkwardly. "Alright…well, I hope your day gets better…" He gave her one last smile before continuing down the sidewalk. Keely glanced after him once before turning back to the mess of her sleeve. At least there were some decent folks left in New York City.

* * *

"Thanks, Viv. I owe you one," Keely said as she pulled a light blue blouse over her head. The material had a slight sheen to it, and stretched nicely around her figure.

"No problem. You're just lucky I had a change of clothes lying around," replied the young woman, inspecting the stain on Keely's discarded shirt. "You know, this could've been a lot worse."

"It was a lot worse, but luckily this random guy had some napkins on him."

"Guy?" Vivian Menzik replied, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow. "Was he good looking?"

"I didn't really notice," Keely said, preoccupied with straightening the blouse around her hips.

"You didn't _notice_?!?" her friend responded incredulously. "Keely! How could you not notice? How are you ever going to get a date if you don't notice? Or show some interest, for goodness sake!?"

Keely didn't reply. Vivian was always interested in anything even vaguely related to the opposite gender. Two years older than Keely, she was one of the secretaries on the production staff. They had become fast friends when Keely started there nearly two years prior. Keely loved her dearly, but was most definitely not in the mood for the speech that she knew was coming.

Vivian ran a hand through her jet black hair in exasperation. "Come on, you must have seen the guy! What did he look like? I mean, unless of course he was old or ugly or something, then – and only then – is it okay that you, I quote, 'didn't notice.'"

"I don't know, Viv," Keely said tiredly. "He was tall and blonde…umm, tan…black shirt, olive tie…"

"You mean he was unbelievably good looking, and you didn't notice!?"

"Look, I'm just not interested in dating anyone right now, okay? I've been having these crazy dreams, and I've been so busy with work, and –"

There was a knock on the doorframe, and a short young man popped his head in. "You ready Keel? Bobbie's on in five, and she needs those stats you prepared for her…she's been looking for you frantically all morning!"

"Thanks, Jake. I'll be out in a second." Keely turned back to Vivian. "Look Viv, I don't have time to talk about this right now, okay? Please just…just –"

"I'm sorry," Vivian replied, ducking her head. "I know you don't need this right now – I just get carried away sometimes…"

Keely smiled. "And you wouldn't be you if you didn't." Keely gave her a quick hug. "Wish me luck!"

"With what?"

"I'm supposed to meet my unofficial future co-anchor today. He'll be training with Dan, sort of like I'm working under Bobbie," Keely said hurriedly as she gathered a few papers from her desk.

"Ooh! You'll have to tell me if he's cute!"

"Vivian…" Keely warned, shaking her head and giggling despite herself.

"Ha! There's that smile – that might come in handy when you greet your new co-worker!" Vivian grinned.

The other woman swatted her with the folder she'd compiled. "I love you, Viv!" Keely called back over her shoulder as she rushed out the door.

"Next time be more careful with your coffee!" Vivian yelled in return.

* * *

"On in 5…4…3…2…"

"Good morning! I'm Bobbie Darron –"

"– and I'm Dan Glenn –"

"– and you're watching the KJZ 13 morning news!" Bobbie smiled. "Surprised to see us this morning? We are most definitely surprised to be here! The usual morning team, Kim and Ted Tanner, was forced to leave us earlier than expected due to the birth of their child. We are happy to say that Kim has given birth to a perfectly healthy, though slightly premature, baby boy. Unfortunately, she will be leaving us indefinitely to care for their two young children, though Ted will soon be taking over as our primetime sportscaster when Bill Roberts retires next month. We would like to thank them both for 10 wonderful years of dedication to KJZ."

Daniel Glenn chimed in, "In the meantime, we will be covering the morning news as well as the primetime. By next Monday, however, we hope to debut two bright young reporters, who we know will do an excellent job – Mr. Jason Kurtz, and Miss Keely Teslow!"

"That's right, Dan," Bobbie glowed with pride. "I'm sure they will do a wonderful job." She turned to the camera. "Stay tuned! We will continue with the morning news in a few short moments!"

The opening sequence began to play on the monitor where Keely was watching. She continued to stare at it in disbelief, as her grip loosened on the coffee cup she was holding. She gasped, and shrieked as it fell to the ground. She could feel the warm coffee splatter all over her right foot and the ankle of her black slacks. "Not again…." She whined.

"Here, let me help you with that…"

Keely looked up, and stopped cold as she recognized the man who was now stooping down to right the dripping coffee cup. "You!"

"Keely!" Bobbie rushed over to speak with her. "I'm so sorry to spring that on you like that, but I couldn't find you this morning! Are you okay?" She laid a hand gently on Keely's arm.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I was just running a little late…"

Bobbie glanced at their companion. "Oh," she said in surprise. "I see you've already met my stepson, Jason."

Keely looked up at the man in shock. He grinned down at her crookedly. "Well, sort of…it's a long story…"

"Keely Teslow, Jason Katz. Jason, this is the brilliant girl I was telling you about. She has been working for me for almost two years now, and she is going to make a phenomenal anchor."

Keely blushed a deep red. Jason – whom Keely had to admit _was_ very attractive – shifted her empty coffee to his left hand, and stuck out his right. "Pleased to make you're acquaintance for real, Ms. Teslow." He smiled down at her. He was a good six inches taller than her, and she had to crane her neck slightly to meet his eyes from where she stood. They were a deep hazel green that matched his tie.

"Nice to meet you too," Keely stuttered. "And thanks - I'm really not usually this spastic," she explained.

"Honestly, I understand. Mum gave you quite a shock this morning, on top of what happened before."

"Yeah." Keely faltered, looking for a way to politely make an escape so that she could collect herself. "Umm…I guess I'm going to go get cleaned up a bit."

Bobbie smiled gently. "Don't worry about it Keely – I'll get someone to clean up this mess. You go get Vivian and find some breakfast, okay?"

"Thanks Bobbie," Keely said gratefully. She glanced back sheepishly at Jason. "Again, great to meet you." She turned quickly, and tried to preserve what little dignity she had left by not quite running to her office. But she'd be darned if she could walk much faster.

* * *

In the future, an older woman sat contentedly at her kitchen table, sipping her tea and looking through an old photo album. It was a relic, really – paper photographs had only lasted until the 2070s. Still, she had pictures in it from her early childhood, and some of her parents and grandparents that she had always treasured. Paging through some of the older pictures, she came across one of her grandmother that she truly adored. It appeared to have been taken on her wedding day. The brown-haired, green-eyed woman was smiling with all the beauty and joy of her youth. There was another woman in the picture as well – older, with gray streaks through her dark blonde hair – who bore the proud smile of a mother overflowing with happiness for her child. The woman touched the picture softly, smiling as she recalled her own wedding day.

She blinked suddenly as she looked again at the picture, and set her Metaglass mug down gently as she leaned closer to inspect the photograph. The image of the bride's mother had not changed, but the bride herself seemed to be shimmering slightly. The woman gasped as she recognized the chestnut sheen of the alter poking through the now translucent white of the wedding gown. She quickly paged through other photos, only to see that the same thing seemed to be occurring in all of the pictures of her grandmother.

The woman rushed from her seat and grabbed her earpiece from the counter, quickly selecting a number from directory on the screen. Something was very wrong.

_There you have it; the second installment. Not perfect, but I really wanted to spit these ideas out…it may be further revised later. Let me know what you think!_

_Raella_


End file.
